"Goin' to paint y'r new barn?" inquired the merchant, with friendly interest.
Uncle Ethan turned with guilty sharpness; but the merchant's face was grave and kindly.
"Yes, I thought I'd touch it up a little—don't cost much."
"It pays—always," the merchant said emphatically.
"Will it—stick jest as well put on evenings?" inquired Uncle Ethan, hesitatingly.
"Yes—won't make any difference. Why? Ain't goin' to have"——
"Waal,—I kind o' thought I'd do it odd times night an' mornin'—kind o' odd times"——
He seemed oddly confused about it, and the merchant looked after him anxiously as he drove away.
After supper that night he went out to the barn, and Mrs. Ripley heard him sawing and hammering. Then the noise ceased, and he came in and sat down in his usual place.
"What y' ben makin'?" she inquired. Tewksbury had gone to bed. She sat darning a stocking.